Words over Water
by Aislinn Cailin
Summary: Gilbert Blythe, fourteen and full of tricks, sends off a message in a bottle in hopes of finding a pen pal. What happens when Fate intervenes and the bottle winds up at the hand of a little girl with fiery red hair and the most wondrous imagination?
1. Chapter One: Gilbert

**Words over Water  
Chapter One - Gilbert**

Charlottetown's harbour gave a splendid view of the sunset; the warm, vibrant colours shimmered in the great pool of water that was the Atlantic Ocean. Mary Blythe, however, was too speechless to pay attention to any of it.

"Wait a moment," she said to her fourteen year old cousin, "let me see if I understand everything correctly. You are planning to write a letter to someone you don't know, put it in a bottle, and send it across the sea?"

"You've got the gist of it, yes," said Gilbert, rolling a sheet of paper up and tying a small red ribbon around it.

"Whatever gave you such an idea?" Mary cried. "You will have no idea _where_ it ends up or _who_ will read it. What if it sails all the way to Poland and a sixty-year-old grandmother picks it up? And if they truly are going to write back, they'll know where you live and everything. It's awful dangerous, Gilbert!"

"You fret too much, Mary," Gilbert said, not concerned about a thing Mary spoke of.

"Yes, I suppose you have a solution for everything I've said then?" huffed the girl, sitting down on the blanket on which Gilbert had placed an array of items.

Gilbert paused and looked up at his older cousin, hazel eyes twinkling. "Indeed I do." He picked up the small glass bottle that he laid on the beach and deposited the rolled up paper inside carefully.

Mary tapped her foot impatiently. "And?" she asked.

"A Polish grandmother probably won't be able to read English. And I wrote inside that the pen-pal—" Mary cut her cousin off. "'_Pen Pal_' That's what you're calling this absurd method of communication?"

"No. It's what I am calling the person who answers back."

Mary threw up her hands in exasperation.

"I don't see what you're so worried about, Mary," Gilbert said, beginning to get a little cross at his cousin's need to stick her nose in where it didn't belong. "I didn't even ask you to come with me. You _followed_ me here."

"And good thing I did too, or you would have gone through with this incredulous idea!" Mary exclaimed.

"I _am_ going through with it," Gilbert snapped. He took the bottle's cork and stuffed it in, pressing it hard and tight. He didn't want the paper to get wet on account of the cork getting loose and flowing away. Mary watched him grind the cork against his finger to push it into the bottle. "And what are you going to do when a sixty-year-old grandmother from Poland comes calling at your doorstep for her beloved Gilbert?" she asked.

Panting from pressing the cork so tightly, the fourteen year old boy turned to look at her. "Will you _stop_ with the Polish grandmother, Mary?" Gilbert said, annoyed. "I know what I'm doing."

"Really? And would you care to explain to me how you are going to avoid your 'pen pal' from finding out your address?"

"No," said Gilbert flatly.

Mary smiled at her cousin icily. "I suppose I'll just have to inform Auntie and Uncle then … " she let the words hang in the air, letting Gilbert ponder for a moment. At last, he gave a sigh of vexation.

"I bought a PO box at Charlottetown's post office," Gilbert said at last.

"You _what_?" Mary cried, jumping to her feet. Had her cousin gone mad? PO boxes were _costly_! Mary thought Gilbert had broken his record for his stupidity, wasting one for a person the boy neither knew of, nor was certain would reply back.

"Well, actually, I _rented_ one," Gilbert said hurriedly. "It's only for a couple of months! And if I don't get a letter back in two months, I won't renew it."

"And how are you going to get the letters?" Mary asked, ever the pessimist.

"We come here _at least_ once a month. I'll have time to pick it up then." Gilbert refocused his attention on the bottle, now oiling the it to make sure the water wouldn't come in. He didn't want a leak to spoil his whole plot, especially from the cork which was dotted with tiny holes. "Besides," he said, turning to look at his cousin, "would you rather the Polish grandmother come to my home in Avonlea or to a Charlottetown post office?"

Mary shook her head in amazement. "I've got to hand it to you, Gilbert, you sure know how to make a flawless plan. It's a pity to see you wasting your talents over something so foolish as a _Pen Pal_."

"It's not wasted if you think it's worthwhile." Gilbert gave the bottle a last look over. "Ready to see it go?"

Mary shrugged and stood up. "All right."

He stepped up to the edge of the beach, looking at the water below. Staring up at the sky, he murmured a silent prayer that this would be reached to someone, somewhere out there, who would find as worthwhile as he did. Then, closing his eyes, he brought his right arm as far back as he could and propelled it forward with all his might, letting the bottle slip through his fingers. The glass object flew through the sky and dropped into the water with a small splash. Gilbert and Mary watched it being tousled around through the water currents, the boy with a small smile, the girl with a small frown. After a couple of minutes, Gilbert gathered up his blanket and extra materials, and asked, "Ready to go?"

"Aren't you going to watch the bottle until it disappears?" asked Mary, her voice edged with a little disappointment.

"No. Fate has set its course; we can't alter it now. And besides," Gilbert said, looking down at his stomach sheepishly, "I'm hungry."

Mary smiled and stood, ruffling the boy's hair. Putting an arm around him, the two cousins walked home. _Pen Pals,_ Mary thought on the way sighing to herself. _I wonder what scrape _this_ will lead him into.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, this being my first Anne of Green Gables fanfiction. Please review and tell me what you think. I especially like constructive criticism, so any and all suggestions are welcome. Be as harsh as you like, as long as you don't make it a useless flame. :)

**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters and content are property of and copyrighted to L.M. Montgomery and her heirs and Batman Books; I own all else. Copyright infringement is not intended and done unknowingly. No money is being made off this and is read and written purely for recreational purposes. This disclaimer applies to all chapters herein.


	2. Chapter Two: Anne

**Words over Water  
Chapter Two - Anne **

Point Prim was a little peninsula that jutted out from Surrey into Hillsborough Bay. It was a secluded part of Prince Edward Island, with varying landscapes. At the peak of the little mass of earth, high cliffs descended down to the crashing waters below, but closer to the mainland, some of the cliffs broke off, giving way to beaches that kissed the water. Lush, green trees bordered the edges of Point Prim, growing along with wild bushes and the greenest of mosses. A lighthouse painted white with red streaks loomed over the whole peninsula.

"Oh!" cried Anne Shirley, staring at the lighthouse as she bounced along in the carriage with Marilla and Mathew Cuthbert, "that lighthouse is round! I've never seen a round lighthouse before. What an ingenious idea! I've seen a lighthouse once in Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia, but I didn't like that lighthouse much. It was too jagged with corners everywhere. I once read somewhere that if you threw away beans, they would grow into a beanstalk and a giant would come down and steal everything. Mrs. Thomas once took me and the children to the lighthouse in Peggy's Cove, but I was dreadful afraid of going all the way to the top because it seemed like a toy a giant had placed, and, any moment, he would come down a beanstalk and snatch that toy back up. This lighthouse seems ever so much safer. I think if a giant tried to grab this one, it would slip out of his fingers. And all the trees around it seem like a little green fence, don't you think? Do you know if there are any more lighthouses around?"

"I don't think the type of lighthouse really matters as long as it works," said Marilla. Before Anne could protest, she snapped, "And for pity's sake, learn to hold your tongue! Maggie and Bert are going to think that it's _my_ fault that you can't keep quiet for one minute!"

Sorrowfully, Anne held her tongue, just as Marilla had commanded. The little orphan girl had heard a great many tales about Maggie and Bert McMurray. Maggie was Marilla and Matthew's second cousin … or was she their first cousin once removed? Anne couldn't remember. But she knew that Maggie and Bert had been married for two years and had a little baby girl named Grace. Marilla had warned Anne to behave herself, or it wouldn't be Anne who received the bad name.

Anne sighed and leaned her head against the carriage's wooden wall, enjoying the rickety ride. What would normally have been a hot summer's day in Avonlea was a fresh, crisp day in Point Prim. The air was buzzing with the scent of the ocean, mixed with a tinge of aspen, spruce, and fir. Occasionally, they would pass a clump of Wild Lupine growing along the path. Anne itched to jump out of the wagon, pluck a few, and strand them in their hair. Violet and red was such a lovely colour combination! It was a pity they weren't walking along. An even bigger regret was that Diana Barry wasn't accompanying Anne. She had been allowed to come but fell sick with the Whooping Cough at the very last minute. It was very sad that the girls would have to spend two whole weeks apart, but they left with promises of letting the other know every little detail of what had partaken in their lives during their time apart.

The peninsula was scarcely populated; Anne noticed only four buildings: the lighthouse, one old, rundown mansion, and two newly whitewashed houses. She suspected that the one closest to Point Prim's peak was Maggie and Bert's house, since Marilla had said that Bert was the one who looked after the operations of the lighthouse. At first, the little girl wasn't too keen on the idea of coming near a giant's potential toy, but the sight of the round lighthouse gave her a marvellous thrill. Perhaps Bert would let her go on the lighthouse. It would be her first trip on one. Wouldn't that be exciting!

"Marilla! Matthew! I never thought I'd see you so soon!"

Anne turned her head toward the direction of the voice, realising only now that they had stopped and Marilla was already off the wagon. Slightly embarrassed, she quickly grabbed her new carpetbag (Marilla had decided the old one was too tattered and too small for anyone respectable) and climbed down the wagon, rushing to the older woman's side.

"And this must be Anne Shirley!" said the owner of the voice who had greeted Marilla. Taking a look at the woman, Anne decided this must be Maggie McMurray. Maggie was short and slightly plump, wearing a plain yellow dress and a smile. Golden curls framed her face, despite the frizz. Her hazel eyes shone warmly.

"My, my, what bright red hair!" said Maggie. Anne stiffened, thinking for a moment that Maggie might insult her, but Maggie's smile did not waver. "It's just like my Grace's. Oh what a beauty!"

Anne was stunned. "You mean you _like _red hair?"

"Oh dear me, yes, I _adore_ it! I've wanted red hair for as long as I could remember."

"Oh, I'd gladly trade my hair for yours!" Anne said eagerly. "I love blonde hair. Perhaps not as much as ebony-black, but _anything_ is better than red. You can't imagine what it's like being stuck with _this_," she held up her braids for emphasis, "all your life. One boy in my school was_ so_ rude, he called me car—"

"That's _enough_ Anne," Marilla snapped. "Why, you're going to talk the poor woman to death."

Maggie laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Marilla, she's an interesting little thing. And besides, you know I like to talk just as much as she does." Maggie smiled at Anne. "Come inside, darling, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

The inside of the little white house (which Maggie affectionately called _the Castle of White Waters_), was just as cozy as it seemed from the outside. There was a little hallway inside the house, where to its right lay a modestly decorated living room. Straight ahead was a small kitchen and eating area. Anne caught a glimpse of Bert McMurray, who was dozing in the living room chair. She heard Maggie chuckle, telling Marilla and Mathew how nothing, not even an earthquake, could disturb Bert during his nap.

Upstairs, there were three small bedrooms, two of which were incredibly small, and one, which was decently sized. Anne suspected that the two were joined together until someone put a wall in between them. She didn't mind much though – there was so much scope for imagination here, especially on how it might have looked when it was just one grand room.

"You'll be sleeping in here," Maggie said to Anne, pointing to the smallest of the rooms. It held a bed, a nightstand, and a small basin in the corner. The nightstand held two drawers, and a single candle on top. "I understand it's not much," she continued, "but Bert never did get around to starting that bedroom we had planned on the first floor. It's quite comfortable for one, though, and you won't be spending much time in here anyway." She smiled. "And, the view is quite beautiful from here. That should make up for the size."

Anne dropped her carpetbag on the floor and went over to look at the window. Maggie was right; Anne's room was on the west wing of the house, and it looked right into the cliffs that jutted below into the foaming white waters. Looking a bit to her left, she saw the cliff descending down gently, until it became a mere hill on top of the water. Eagerly, Anne raced out of her room.

"Oh, Marilla, if I may, there is this lovely little cliff that transcends into the water so majestically, and I was wondering if you could find it in you heart for me to go and sit by the by the water? It's not a very deep fall, and I promise not to get hurt, won't you please let me go, Marilla?" Anne took a deep breath when she finished her sentence.

"Why, absolutely not, Anne," Marilla said sharply. "You'll be off in your own world, and won't pay the slightest attention to the cliff until you're in the water. I can assure you, child, it _is_ a long fall. Long enough to smash that pretty little head of yours right in two, in any case."

"Oh, let her go, Marilla," Matthew said, speaking up for the first time since they got here. "It'll be silly to force her to stay here and listen to us adults."

"And don't forget how many times _you_ almost fell over that cliff Marilla," Maggie added teasingly. "Besides, Anne is old enough to know to not go too far to the edge. Isn't that right, Anne?"

Anne nodded vigorously. "Oh, please, Marilla, if you let me go just this one time, it'll please me to the depths of my soul. You have _no idea_ how it feels to stay in here when all those ferns and trees are just calling out to me."

Marilla rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right. Make sure you're back by supper."

"Oh, thank you, Marilla!" Anne hugged her before running out. Then, she stopped again, turned and curtsied. "Mr and Mrs. McMurray. Matthew." She nodded to each one respectively, and then turned and resumed running outside.

"That girl," Marilla said, shaking her head. "I wonder what fickle she'll get herself into this time."

"I adore the girl," Maggie said, watching her go. "She lights up whatever room she's in. Sure know she brightened up your life a whole lot."

Marilla smiled. _She sure has._

--

Outside, Anne sighed as she ran along the brambles and bushes that bordered the edge of Point Prim. Even in the short ten minutes she was outside, she managed to make her hair all ruffled and out of place with the leaves and twigs she stuck in her hair as a crown.

_Oh,_ she thought looking out into the water below, _I feel as though I am Guinevere, awaiting the return of King Arthur in Avalon._ She closed her eyes. What a thrill it would be to live in a place like this all your life!

The cool ocean breeze caressed her hair as she ran down the side of Point Prim. The cliff got lower and lower, until it descended into a small little beach. She took off her sandals, and stepped into the water. The gently lapping waves tickled her feet. _What a perfect place_, she thought, staring out into the ocean. _I want to remember this moment forever._ Taking a good long look at the scene, she burned the image into her memory.

She unbraided her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. It was such a hassle running around with two big lumps by your side. Sighing, she stepped further into the water, walking slowly and carefully so she wouldn't slip.

The sunlight was odd up ahead. Squinting, Anne realised that there seemed to be some sort of an object floating there. _What was that?_ She walked a bit closer. Yes, there was definitely something there.

The waves washed the object a little closer toward her. She gasped with delight. It was a bottle, with a roll of paper inside it. A treasure map, maybe! She had read it in many books – an unsuspecting person found a map inside a bottle that led them to adventure and enough treasure to last a lifetime. She tried to walk more quickly in the water, eager to get to the map. Unfortunately, the ocean was against her favour and the bottle drifted away.

"No, wait!" Anne cried out desperately, as if that made a big difference. "Stay, please!" She walked faster – too fast. Anne slipped, landing head down right into the cold ocean water.

Coughing and gasping, she got back up, wiping the water off her face. The bottle was moving father by the second.

"No!" she cried, and walked even faster, not caring if she slipped again. She was already wet, so it wouldn't really matter now.

The water was getting higher; it was now at her waist. Still, Anne kept going. She was so close – the bottle was just a few feet away. No, the tide was taking it away!

Closing her eyes, she dived, jumping for the bottle. Her hair got caught in her eyes, and she couldn't see, but she felt her fingers closing around something hard and smooth. _Glass,_ she thought with relief.

She pulled the bottle toward her before she got up, coughing and panting again. Anne grinned with triumph. Clutching the bottle to her chest, she went back toward the shore. Her hair and dress was wet, full of dirt and grime, but she didn't care. Soon, she would have enough money to buy a hundred different dresses!

When she reached the shore, Anne realised she needed to wipe her hands first. Treasure maps were very delicate – even a single drop of water could tear them apart. Eventually, she ended up wiping her hands on one of the fern leaves, because her clothes were too wet for her to dry her hands with.

Eagerly, but cautiously, she unscrewed the cork, and tipped the bottle so the piece of paper inside it rolled on the floor. It seemed relatively new.

Frowning, Anne gently opened the scroll. To her disappointment, it wasn't a map at all. Rather, it was a _letter._

_Ahoy there, mate! _

_I'm Captain Scarbeard, a ruthless pirate, ruler of the Seven Seas! It seems you stumbled onto my little treasure map. _

_So what's me treasure? Why, you, matey! _

_Y'see, the purpose of this letter was to find a _Pen Pal.

_What's a Pen Pal, ye ask? Why, good question! A _Pen Pal _is a pal you know anywhere in the world, and you write letters to. I'm looking for a lad or lass about my age (around 14) and someone who can speak English of course. So, if you like reading and making up stories and some good ol' gold huntin' (ye should have a pretty darn good imagination for that), write me back, won't you? (My address is on the back.) This poor soul is bleeding for some new friends. _

_Now, if you're not, or don't want to have a pen pal, kindly put the letter back in the bottle and return it to sea. Maybe you can start your own pen pal too. Who knows? _

_Anyway, I better be off now. My matey here, seems he got into a little scrimmage. You know, pirate stuff. _

_Arrr! _

_Captain Scarbeard _

--

Marilla, Matthew, Maggie, and the drowsy Bert were just sitting down for a good cup of tea when the door burst open and a gasping redhead stood in the doorway, dirty and wet.

"Anne!" Marilla cried, shocked. "What happened? You seem as if you almost drowned."

"Oh, Marilla, can I please have a Pen Pal?" Anne begged.

"A – a _what_? You come barging in, looking like you fell into the ocean, and all you can ask me is whether you can have a pen?"

"Anne, what happened?" Maggie asked, much more composed than Marilla. "What's all this talk about a pen?"

Quickly, Anne handed over the letter, explaining her story while Marilla read it. The woman's face was hard and composed, her lips pursed tightly.

"Well," she said, after a moment of silence. "It's obvious what the answer is: _no._ Not only did you ruin a perfectly good dress, Anne Shirley, you also dove into the ocean, _alone_ when you can't even _swim, _all to retrieve a letter in a bottle? No. Absolutely not."

"But, _Marilla_, how could you pass up something like this? Captain Scarbeard is just calling me, _begging me _to reply to him. And I'm his age too! Twelve is only two years off from fourteen!"

"Absolutely not, Anne. You don't even know if this Scarbeard is telling the truth. He could be an old man just looking for a young girl to toy with, for all we know."

"But he said lad _or_ lass!" Anne cried. "Surely he'd only say _lass_ if he wanted a girl."

"Anne, I said _no_ and my decision is final. Now go up to your room, and clean yourself up," Marilla said, her voice thick with anger. "We will decide your punishment of ruining your dress afterwards."

"It's not fair!" Anne said, stamping her foot. "I don't get my pen pal, _and_ I get punished? It's just not fair!"

"We will decide what's 'fair' later, young lady. Now, go to your room." Marilla commanded. "And no," she said, when Anne was about to open her mouth, "you may _not_ have the letter."

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Anne stormed up to her room. She slammed the door with a _bang _so loud that it echoed through the entire house.

--

Maggie knocked twice on Anne's door before she turned the doorknob and opened the door. "Anne?" she whispered softly to the sobbing girl. "Are you okay?"

She clearly was not. The girl was sobbing her eyes out.

"Oh, Anne, Marilla just wants what's best for you."

"It was just this one thing, this _one thing_," she said, wailing. Maggie stroked the girl's hair.

"But, see, if you give out your address, the person could find you. He might do – _things_ – to you Anne, things you wouldn't imagine. Marilla loves you, she's just worried."

Anne didn't reply; she just kept sobbing.

"You're really dead gone over this Pen Pal scheme, aren't you?"

Anne nodded. "If there was one thing in the world that could satisfy my heart, it would be to have a Pen Pal."

Maggie sighed. "I'll talk to Marilla. Ask her if we can give our address instead of yours, and I could send the letters – _unopened_ - to you. That way, your identity and your address would be kept secret."

Anne got up. "You'd do that? For me?"

Maggie smiled. "Don't tell Marilla I said so, but _Pen Pals_ is such a wonderful idea. So much scope for the imagination!"

Anne grinned, and hugged her. "Oh, Maggie, I never met a spirit so kindred as yours. Well, except maybe Diana's."

Maggie stroked the girl's hair, and lifted her chin up. "You stop crying, all right? There will be tears at my house."

Anne wiped away her last tear and sniffed, nodding.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you to _all _of you who reviewed; all your comments are worthwhile, and I promise to get back to them shortly. I am _extremely_ sorry that Chapter 2 took so long; it seems I fell out of _Anne of Green Gables_ for a while. Anyway, as it is summer, I promise to update a _lot_ more frequently.

Just to clear a few things up: Anne is twelve, because this all started after her first March in Avonlea. Also, fact: Point Prim really does exist, as does the circular lighthouse. Fiction: Maggie and Bert, and the houses.

Also, one last thing: if _anyone_ at all is interested in betaing the fic _please_ contact me (either leave a review, or e-mail me personally). I really would appreciate a beta, and if you could do this, it would mean the _world_ to me.

Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, and/or gave me constructive criticism. All feedback is treasured. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and hope you're enjoying the fic so far!


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